


The Price of Power

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, BDSM, Codependency, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slapping, Squirting, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: Harry and Ginny's loving relationship is threatened by darkness inside. Unfortunately for Daphne, her sentence has been decided.





	The Price of Power

**Author's Note:**

> Fest: hp_owned 2013  
> Prompt: #155 by leontinabowie: After the war, instead of sending everyone to Azkaban, anyone who supported Voldemort was given as a slave to key members of the Light side. Harry and Ginny, who have an otherwise vanilla sex life, get Daphne, and decide to experiment with her.
> 
> I'd wanted to write a story like this for a while now, and the prompt was like a sign. But then, catching me somewhat off guard, the characters started making some surprising decisions all on their own. It's been quite a journey writing this, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Daphne couldn't believe it. How in the name of sanity was she able to take that entire forearm inside of her? Her new Mistress might be a little slip of a thing, but it was her _arm_. And worse, it felt _good_!

Sanity had obviously taken a vacation and was never coming back.

She wanted to yell, cry out in pain, pleasure, something. But the gag in Daphne's mouth made that all but impossible; she wasn't even able to keep her saliva from drooling down her cheek. And she certainly couldn't wipe it up, or even remove the gag, not with her wrists in leather shackles chained to the bedposts. Kicking out, or even squeezing her legs closed was also out with her ankles similarly restrained to the footboard.

Those brown eyes stared up at her, grinning wildly, cruelly, from under those fiery bangs. Her Mistress thrust her arm once more into Daphne's inexperienced womanhood, and Daphne could swear she felt the bint (she mustn't allow those thoughts...) _flex_ her hand inside of her. Daphne moaned again into her ball-gag, more drool escaping the corner of her mouth and sliding down her face.

"Oh, yes," said Ginevra Potter, "Harry is going to love this."

Daphne barely made out her Mistress' comment before an orgasm tore through her body. She had never before felt anything of its like. Her inner walls contracted painfully, her Mistress' arm still inside of her and preventing any relief. Her stomach clenched up, feeling for all the world like it was trying to fold her in half, her arms and legs straining mightily against their bonds.

And when it all reached its peak, whiteness encroaching on her vision, she did something she had never done before: she squirted. As if she were going to the bathroom, she could feel the stream of liquid shoot from her, the pressures of her orgasm fading, slipping away. And then every muscle in her body simply gave out, including her eyelids, and everything faded away to black.

* * *

"You did what?" exclaimed Harry.

"Harry," Ginny soothed. Grabbing his shoulder from behind, she continued, "Harry, look at me, please?"

Slowly, he turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes. He would talk it through with her. He always did. She lightly grabbed his face between her hands and brought him in for a kiss.

"I love you," she said softly. "I did this for us. You know that. We've talked about it."

"Talked, yes. But... It was just talk. She's a _slave_ , Ginny."

"She had a _choice_ , Harry. They all did. You know that. You helped set it up."

Harry sighed and brought his wife into his strong embrace. He tilted his head, resting his temple on her forehead, and held her even more tightly.

He should have seen this coming.

After the war, so many non-purebloods were out for revenge. Kingsley, in control of the Ministry, politicked hard, using every available resource – including Harry – to bring the Wizengamot into line. Over the course of several months after the Final Battle, they were able to calm the body of wizards and witches of their blood thirst, allowing safe and fair trials for all the captured Death Eaters and their sympathizers.

It was eventually determined that many defendants, while definitely guilty, and even admittedly so, were products of their upbringing. And so, under the guidance of many of the actual and virtual leaders of Wizarding Britain – Harry reluctantly included – the Slave Laws were instituted. It seemed the fairest way of helping those who simply didn't know better.

But he had never planned on actually utilizing their legal services himself.

"Just tell me why," said Harry.

He could feel Ginny take several deep breaths before she explained. "Two reasons, really. The first is we don't want to hurt each other. We've worked so hard, come so far together, that we're both afraid of doing something to ruin that. We both know we can't, but... The Chamber, the Department of Mysteries, my last year of school, your hunt... We're afraid, Harry. _I'm_ afraid. I love you so much, I can't do anything to lose you."

"And the second?"

"She deserves it."

Harry pulled away, holding Ginny by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes. He could see the determination, the desperation, the darkness hiding deep.

"For all those things, and more, we both have darkness in us. We hide it away, because it's not who we are. But it _is_ , Harry. And with each other, we're just so... plain. I love you for it. But it's hurting us, coming between us. And we won't act on it and hurt each other.

"So let's hurt her," Ginny said, finishing her explanation.

He pulled her back into his embrace, and could feel her shaking. It wasn't the first time they had discussed this, but for Ginny to have taken this step...

"She gave up her rights, Harry. She was offered prison or rehab. She _chose_ the courses, and she _chose_ to take part in Blood Prejudice. She gave up her rights, by your own laws."

And that, of course, was the heart of the Slave Laws. A person convicted of hate crimes was offered one chance. Just one: Serve time, or take the courses that taught them the idiocy of their opinions. That wasn't the wording, of course, but the general idea was right. If they served their time, then they were done.

If they made the Choice for 'rehabilitation,' however, and then proceeded to commit similar crimes again, they were bound into slavery for twice the length of their sentence.

And under the Laws, slaves had fewer rights than even House Elves – especially since Hermione and Kreacher had gotten their hands into the Magical Creature Protection Act. Elves, at any time, had the full, legal, magical right to say 'enough' if they felt they or their service was being abused, and no owner could order that right away. New, proper ownership would be found by the Department of Magical Creatures.

Slaves had no such rights. Slaves were guaranteed life, and no injuries that could not be fixed at the end of their sentence. That was it.

"Don't hate me," whispered Ginny.

"I don't. I just..." he paused. And then he realized. "You've already used her, haven't you?"

He could feel her nod against him, shaking even harder.

"H-How was it?"

"Like I was free. No judgment, no disappointment. I could let it all out. It was freeing. And then I could come wait for you without that little bit of something, gnawing at the back of my gut, wondering if this was time I would lose it and hurt you."

This time, he was the one that nodded.

"Please?" she asked.

* * *

Harry place himself into his 'Professional' mode. It was that lack of emotion he donned when he dealt with the Death Eater trials. The one he wore when dealing with the Slave Laws. The one that put everything deep down, except the darkness that he normally hid, which he let float just beneath the surface, just under his control.

He walked into the room, and found Daphne, nude, strapped to the bed exactly as Ginny had said she left her: naked, spread eagle, the gag on the nightstand next to what appeared to be a butt-plug and a rather large dildo. Except that Daphne was now awake, and looking skeptically at him. Staring at her for several moments, he was able to read several things off of her expression, but he wouldn't rush to judgment.

"What did you do?" he started.

"What?"

"You don't get to ask that, slave," he said. "I tell you something, you do it. I ask a question, you answer it. What did you do?"

"You know what I did; you were at my trial."

"In which I pushed for you to get the Choice. You chose. And now, you're here. For the last time, what did you do?"

She hesitated for only moment, before she responded, "The stupid Muggle wouldn't get out of my way, so I pushed him. He fell, lost two of his teeth, no big thing."

"No big thing? Muggles can't regrow teeth. You took the classes. You..." He huffed and inhaled deeply, attempting to center himself. "Ginny was right. You made your choice."

The ever so brief defiance in her eyes; her complete lack of regard for Muggles; the total lack of remorse for her actions. He felt his control over his impulses stress to the breaking point. And then he heard Ginny's reply in his head. "... I was free ... I could let it all out ..."

For the first time ever, Harry let it all out, just as Ginny said. He took two steps to the foot of the bed, climbed onto it, and knelt down, straddling Daphne's naked torso. And before either of them could figure out what it is he was doing, he reached across his own body and backhanded her cheek.

The shock was evident on her pale face, now reddening on one side.

"Perhaps I should knock out two of your teeth. After all, you're 'just a slave,'" said Harry.

"Y... You wouldn't. You _can't_."

"You don't think?" he responded. He leaned forward and said quietly, directly to her face, "Don't presume I don't know exactly what I can and can't do to a slave."

He sat back up and continued, "Ginny seems to think I, _we_ need outlets. That everything we've been through has done something to us. I can't say I disagree with her, I just never really planned anything other than living my life."

Harry paused his little venting session to smack Daphne once again, eliciting from her a sound of mixed surprise and pain.

"Love my wife," *smack* "Have kids," *smack* "Live a calm," *smack* " _normal_ " *smack* "life!" *smack*

Tears were leaking from the corners of Daphne's eyes, but Harry could also see the muscles in her jaw clenching. Proper pureblood princesses didn't cry.

"But apparently, my nice, vanilla plans, are in danger from everything I've never wanted in my life. Let's see how well an outlet can help that, shall we? Slave?"

Harry stood on the bed mattress as he finished the word 'slave,' still straddling her with one foot on either side of her waist. He undid his trousers, letting them fall across her stomach. He slipped his robes from his shoulders and threw them onto the floor. Now naked himself, Daphne's eyes widened when she looked at his cock hanging flaccidly between his legs.

Harry had always been somewhat embarrassed by his penis. He had seen others – dorming with boys, the locker room and showers at Quidditch – and his was definitely different from theirs. As yet something else that made him different, he was quite self-conscious about it.

It wasn't until he and Ginny reached the 'petting' stage back during his sixth year that he learned his deformity _wasn't_ exactly. Ginny, after sliding her hand down his trousers and nearly fainting from excitement, informed him that his size was a good thing: quite a bit larger than average, yet not big enough that it would be uncomfortable for most girls – at least, not with proper preparation. (Apparently, she learned about quite a lot having six brothers to spy on.)

"So," he addressed the wide-eyed Daphne. "Since it seems a lowly slave can't get me ready just by being lazy, and what does that say about you? We'll just have to rectify that. I've always wanted to try this."

Kneeling back down, he dropped his prodigious cock between his slave's breasts, a slap sounding from the contact. Harry palmed her breasts, feeling their heft and softness, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers. Then he pushed them together, over his cock, and began thrusting.

He stopped after only a couple strokes.

"Bah. What a useless slut you are," he said, before releasing her breasts and spitting several time into her cleavage, wetting his cock and her breasts. Daphne simply glared at him. Pressing her mounds back together and thrusting once more, he relished the slickness and said, "Much better."

The feel of her breasts was much different than the feel of a hand, or mouth, or pussy. They were soft, but firm, his saliva providing a decent amount of slickness. The most interesting part of the experience, besides the look of total revulsion on Daphne's face, was the feel of his balls rubbing along her smooth skin.

It was a new sensation, and had the surprising effect of bringing him to orgasm much more quickly than he ever would have expected. He had been somewhat excited at the prospect of trying this (something he would only admit now that he'd done it,) and after merely a minute or so of thrusting through his new slave's tits, the extra sensation caused him to spurt all over Daphne's face.

With the dark part of him now expressing itself, the shame and disgust Daphne was displaying made him happy – excited even. There was a smugness in him that he never really let out, but which now turned his smile into a full-fledged smirk towards the helpless girl on his bed – a girl that represented everything he hated about the wizarding world growing up.

He knee walked backwards, dragging his cock down her body, the last remnants of his orgasm dribbling from him and smearing across her skin. Shoving two fingers into her cunt, he wasn't surprised to find that she wasn't very wet. No matter, he found he was more excited by her humiliation than anything else at the moment.

"Damn," he said. "If Ginny's going to keep that up, we're going to have to find a way to fix it. She's just about ruined you. It's like a cavern in here."

It wasn't true, really. She was quite tight, especially considering what Ginny had up there only a little bit earlier, but the look of horror Daphne gave him made it worthwhile.

"Oh, well, I'll just assume the other hole hasn't been made useless, yet."

She whimpered. It was quiet, well hidden, but it was definitely a whimper, and Harry felt a thrill run through him. He cast the spell surreptitiously, not for the slave as much as not wanting his own experience to be unpleasurable, and felt a slickness cover his cock – sensation without temperature, a most peculiar feeling, especially given its location.

Lining up his tip with her puckered little entrance, he pressed lightly letting her feel the contact, fear the coming intrusion. He pushed, relishing the resistance of her subconsciously preventing him from entry. He pushed again, harder, and a whimper came from the defiant slave. He pushed a third time, maintaining the pressure, and finally he popped through her muscled entrance, the lubrication charm allowing him to slide right in.

There was a look of discomfort on Daphne's face from the sudden stretching. Then, with a mighty shove, he buried himself fully into her, causing her to cry out in shock, shame and pain; Harry was not small, and she had never had anything back there before.

"This... is amazing," he taunted her. "I should have tried this with Ginny ages ago, but, well, your pain makes me glad I didn't."

Despite being cruel, he actually meant it. He would have loved doing this with Ginny, but he couldn't hurt her for anything. That he couldn't do this with his girl made him angrier, and in turn, he took it out on Daphne by reaming repeatedly into her arse.

Soon, Daphne started crying out at Harry's fucking. He had no idea if it was from pain or pleasure, and he honestly didn't care.

The lubrication charm did its job, and Harry slid in and out of her tight hole with relative ease, only her tightness adding resistance. He pounded into her, caring only about his own release. And then it came, feeling to him as if all his anger and darkness were being poured deep into her bowels. He pulled out of her, staring at her sweaty body spread eagle, white leaking from her arse.

Harry now understood what Ginny meant by no longer worrying about him. With Daphne here, he would never have that fear of finally turning on Ginny gnawing at him, deep in the back of his mind. All he wanted now was the loving company of his wife.

Having Daphne around would definitely be worthwhile.

* * *

Harry was staring into the bathroom mirror. It had long since learned when to keep its thoughts to itself. A fair amount of spell-work went into fixing it when it mouthed off to Harry at the wrong time and ended up with a spiderweb of cracks through the entire surface of the glass. Those cracks were no longer there, but Harry was wondering if there were visual remnants in the reflection. He was trying to figure out if he looked different, or if it all was in his head.

In the reflection, over his shoulder, he saw Ginny leaning against the doorframe. She looked pure, innocent, (or as innocent as someone who had as much sex as they did could,) and calm. He would never know from looking at her what she had done with their slave earlier that day. She simply waited there, watching Harry, obviously waiting for him to decide whatever it was he was trying to figure out.

"I can't figure out if I should be upset or not," he said to her reflection.

"She's ours to do with what we please. That's why I did it," she said, remaining in the doorway.

"Do I... Do I look different?" he asked, finally speaking what was worrying him. "I know what I did, but I don't look like it."

Ginny rushed forward and embraced him from behind. "No. No, Harry, you look like you. We've spent our lives wearing who we want to be on the outside, the both of us. Whom we hide underneath isn't going to change that."

Harry turned in her arms and returned the hug, bending his head down to rest his forehead against hers.

"Tell me this: do you think you're going to hurt me?" she asked. "Be entirely honest."

"Not like I was afraid of... before. It's like, I know I can do whatever, because she is right there, within reach."

"So, are you still upset with me?"

Tipping her head head by the chin, Harry leaned in a kissed her. "No," he answered her. "I'm not upset. Just sticky. Shall we shower?"

With a giggle, Ginny spun out of his embrace and doffed her clothes. Harry quickly followed, and in short order, the loving couple were in the pleasantly warm water, soaping down each other's body.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed rubbing his hands over Ginny's pale, perfect skin. He pressed his hands into the smooth muscles of her shoulders, sliding them through the soapy slickness over her back and around her sides to massage her fair breasts, making sure his fingers strummed over her hardening nipples, drawing a moan from his lover. She leaned back into him, pressing as much of her naked back against his bare front as she could, allowing him plenty of time to caress her.

Soon, he slid his hands down her stomach, relishing the taut muscles under his fingers, until he reached the end of her torso, where it curved down between her legs. He followed the shape of her body, pressing his hands into the stiff pebble that adorned the oily slick crease that he ran his fingers between, drawing a louder moan from her.

She responded by sliding her body, undulating it against his now hard cock that pressed between their bodies. He groaned and bent his head over to kiss at her neck.

Spinning in his arms, she tilted her head back and met his mouth with her own while he caressed her arse, occasionally sliding his fingers further to dip into her pussy. She then slipped one arm between them to handle his cock, causing it to repeatedly twitch in her hand, against her stomach.

Their loving kisses and caresses went on for some time while Harry's larger size slowly moved the both of them so that Ginny was against the shower wall. Eventually, she pulled her mouth from him and pleaded, "Please," in a breathy voice.

Using his strength, Harry lifted his woman with his hands under her arse, and she, using one hand to steady herself between him and the wall, used her other hand to align him under her. Once he felt himself in place, he gently lowered her, relishing the feel of her perfect pussy slowly swallowing every inch of his cock.

As she held herself, arms around his neck, he likewise supported her in his arms, her back against the wall, with enough room for him to use his hips, moving sensuously in and out of her, luxuriating in the feel of her squeezing, gripping his cock, trying to hold him inside of her, and welcoming him when he returned.

Having harshly used their new slave twice not an hour ago, he certainly had no need to rush things, and was able to keep moving within Ginny for an extended time. He would move slowly, then quickly, sensuously and then sharply, changing every so often, keeping Ginny on the edge.

He could feel her contract around him, her arms tensing and holding onto him, as she moaned out a long, slow orgasm, and he continued making love to her through it.

In any Muggle shower, the water would have long since run cold by the time Harry felt the familiar stirrings of his own, impending orgasm. He was able to pull another from Ginny before he released into her. It wasn't the thunderous finale they sometimes shared, but rather a pleasing finish to what was a wonderful experience with his lover.

Together, Harry now leaning against the wall while Ginny leaned into him, they stood under the warm spray as it washed away the physical evidence of their activities.

* * *

It was actually Molly who discovered their dark secret.

The couple had kept Daphne in her room when others were over. Any other time, she was around the house, taking care of basic chores. The spells that enforced her slavery prevented her from running away, attempting to cause harm to her owners, or anything else that would cause issues. And it left her within easy reach anytime one of them felt the need to let go.

Daphne was at the sink, cleaning up from dinner preparation while Harry and Ginny sat at the table, enjoying the meal over pleasant conversation and loving smiles. The smiles froze in awkward horror when the Floo sounded and Molly walked into the kitchen, first smiling pleasantly at the couple, and then quickly staring in shock and disapproval at the dark-haired girl standing at the sink, kitchen apron covering her peasant top that left most of her back bare and short skirt that clearly had nothing under it.

But, surprisingly to the pair, she took a shaky breath, and offered a weak attempt at a comforting smile before seating herself at the table. She watched them for a while, as they stared defiantly at her, daring her to confront them, and fearing that she might.

Finally, she spoke up.

"It doesn't really surprise me, you know."

The shock on their faces clearly indicated that it wasn't the response they expected.

"You are my children, and a mother can always see the things they hide. Yes, even you, Harry," she said as he made to interrupt. She took another breath, collecting her thoughts. "Both of you hide it so well, but it's been with you a long, long time, more so after the war. Then you found each other, and you were so good for each other. I was so happy to know that together, it would stay at bay, and you could be happy."

She looked over at the slave who continued working, seemingly oblivious to the company.

"But that fear of what hid inside each of you was always there – around others, more so around each other. I have one question: is helping?"

Both of them blushed and nodded.

Molly nodded in response, and said, "You should never have had that darkness in you, either of you, and we're all so very lucky you are the wonderful people you are. But, I was raised a pureblood, and the customs of mistresses and slaves aren't unknown to me. If she helps you to be the good people you are, and knowing the reasons that would cause her current station, then I'm happy that it helps.

"Just so you know," she glanced again at Daphne, who had finished cleaning up and was now preparing tea, "She is not welcome at The Burrow. Understand?"

Ginny leaned over to hug her mother, who responded by patting Ginny's back. "So," she said, "who made dinner?"

The question of if it was 'the slave' went unasked, but Ginny happily responded, "Harry did. Sorry, Mum, but I'm just rubbish at it."

* * *

That was also the day things changed for Daphne. She listened to the chatter of her owners with their mother – a conversation of a loving family, at opposite ends with the stilted, proper conversations she grew up with. Her family loved one another, to be sure, but the free, happy environment she looked upon now was lost in the proper comportment she was raised to follow.

As odd as it was, even as just a slave – one which Molly astutely ignored – she was now a part of a much different family dynamic than the one she grew up in. And somewhere within her, in an epiphany of twisted logic, she realized that helping her owners to maintain their loving home and family was a goal more worthy than any she had schemed in the past.

So when, several hours later, their mother left, a feeling of pride swept over her as Harry turned his head to glare at her.

Daphne stood her ground, playing her part, as her Master and Mistress stalked over to her.

"She looks proud, like she's happy we were caught," Harry commented.

"Well, obviously the joke's on her," replied Ginny. "You would think she would be worried about getting caught, considering we told her our friends and family should never see her."

"I've noticed she does tend to be something of a stupid whore."

"She's nothing more than a tool, a toy. What would you expect?" asked Ginny.

"I expect nothing of a toy other than the ability to play with it however I please."

Harry gripped Daphne around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. He turned, took several steps, and dumped her unceremoniously onto the kitchen table. In the past, this would have frightened Daphne. When the married couple were together, they fed off of one another, and things often became quite painful for her.

But her new revelations now only caused her concern that she perform adequately. She began to understand the importance of the price she paid. And thus, it was with pride that she allowed her body to properly respond to anything they chose to do.

Ginny slinked up next to her husband, wrapping her arm around his waist. With her other hand, she tossed Daphne's apron to the side and abruptly shoved two fingers right up Daphne's cunt. It hurt, briefly, but Daphne took pleasure from serving them and quickly began to respond.

"Mmmm, wet. Just like it should be," commented Ginny, as she added a third finger, and then a fourth.

The stretching wasn't as painful as it once was, and soon, Daphne could feel herself wet enough that her Mistress took her natural lubrication and started to spread and smear it over her arsehole.

When her hand disappeared, Daphne lifted her head – which she hadn't even realized had fallen back to the table – and saw Ginny climbing onto the table. She straddled Daphne, facing her husband, as Harry reached down and grabbed Daphne's legs, spreading and lifting them. He handed her legs off to Ginny who pulled them even further back, leaving Daphne helpless and exposed.

As a result, there was no surprise when Harry shoved himself into Daphne's pussy with a grunt, driving the air from Daphne's lungs. He pounded into her before uttering a common insult for him, which despite her new focus in life, still caused her some embarrassment.

"Damn, Ginny. You're ruining her. I'm getting nothing from this."

"So?" responded his wife. "Use the other one. I can keep using that one."

As expected, he pulled out of her with one stroke, and without missing a beat, drove into arse with the next stroke, groaning loudly.

"Ooooh, so much better."

Daphne then felt Ginny pulling on her left leg, increasing the stress on joints which were never that flexible to begin with.

"Here, hold this," her Mistress said, casually, as if handing her a bag or something.

Daphne hooked her elbow around her own knee as Ginny let go, and then used Daphne's other leg to leverage herself off of the slave, causing more discomfort for Daphne.

"This one, too," said Ginny, leaving Daphne to hold herself bent near in half while her Master continued his assault on her arse, which had only become more violent in the last few moments.

Ginny then sidled back next to Harry and said, "Budge over."

The physics really didn't make that possible, so with a raised brow, he pulled her partially between himself and Daphne, and didn't enter her fully on each stroke, though he kept fucking her without stopping.

Daphne then met Ginny's eyes – her cruel eyes and wicked smirk. As Harry pulled back, Ginny leaned over and shoved her hand and forearm directly into Daphne, causing her to cry out in pain.

Harry drove back into Daphne and Ginny cried out with almost girlish glee, "Harry! I can feel you!"

"Jeezus, Ginny. So fucking tight," he grunted. And when Daphne felt Ginny wiggle her hand inside of her, Harry said, "Oh my gods, that's amazing. Do that again."

And she did.

To Daphne, it felt as if Ginny were trying to grab a hold of Harry from the inside. It was painful, and somehow, it made Daphne happy that she could do this for them. She allowed herself to react accordingly and derived her own sexual pleasure from the massive penetration that was taking place.

Harry shouted out and Daphne could feel him pulse, squirt into her while Ginny rubbed him through her, coaxing his orgasm longer, and causing Daphne even more painful pleasure. When he was done, he pulled out, and she could feel him dripping from her.

Ginny followed by yanking her arm out of her abused cunt, and the final shock of sensation and pain caused Daphne to do something she had never done before becoming a slave, and only occasionally since then: she squirted all over her Masters and the kitchen.

"You fucking whore!" screeched Ginny. "I'm a mess! And look what you did to Harry."

The surprise orgasm had drained Daphne, and she was finding it difficult to look up as she had been told. But once she managed to get her head up, she saw Harry and Ginny standing there, shiny and wet with the results of her climax.

"Get your arse up and clean us," growled Harry. "Now!"

Focusing on her sore, yet tingling body, she grunted in the effort it took to sit up on the table, and the even greater effort to remain upright as she slid off the surface and stood on the floor. She turned to get some towels to wipe them down when Harry spoke up.

"What do you think you're doing, slave? You were told to clean us up, so do it."

She looked around for anything at hand to help when Ginny slapped her, her wet hand causing the painful attack to sting even more.

"Are you stupid? Clean us, now!"

Finally, understanding pierced her post-orgasmic haze, and she knelt down and began licking her Mistress clean of her own salty, musky fluids. She started with Ginny's hand and arm, and worked her way over her breasts and nipples, and down her stomach. She continued down Ginny's legs, catching up the last drips with her tongue.

When her Mistress was clean, she moved over, repeating the process on Harry's hard chest and abs. She cringed when she realized she would need to clean his cock, too, and took the dirty appendage into her mouth, making sure all traces of their sexual activities were gone from it.

Once they were clean, they continued to stare at her, accusation on their faces.

"The floor?" prompted Ginny.

Daphne was exhausted, but her slavery compelled her. She bent over and began licking her sticky fluids off the floor, which due to her chores, was thankfully mostly clean. She had squirted everywhere, and realized this was going to take a while. She only hoped she didn't get sick, or pass out before she was done.

From the floor, she heard Harry and Ginny, once more the loving couple she lived to serve, speaking softly to one another.

"I love you so much, Gin."

"Harry, please, take me to bed."

As she worked over the next several hours, romantic laughter and passionate moans drifted down the hallway.

* * *

It was ten years later when Harry roughly pulled Daphne from her duties and shoved her onto the sofa in the living room. She was expecting a violent fucking, but was shocked when he sat across from her to talk.

"It's time," he said, with no further explanation.

She was quite confused, waiting for either more instruction or punishment for not figuring out his statement, when she realized that she had lost complete track of time. Her sentence was up.

Her initial infraction, pushing someone and causing physical damage, would not have normally carried anything more than restitution, maybe some service. But adding that it was a crime against a Muggle, classified as Mugglebaiting, and a hate crime, its punishment went up. And again, that sentence was doubled due to violating her parole – the classes.

And now, it was over.

"When Ginny gets home, we will take you for release."

His voice sounded strained. It wasn't hard for Daphne to figure out why. Over the last decade, she had become a regular tool for the Potters. They used her hard and often, which allowed them to present to the public the kind, gentle, loving family that they truly were when their darker impulses were contained – impulses Daphne had come to understand were forced upon them at young ages and which they hated with every fiber of their beings.

But, as the people they were supposed to be, Harry was an Auror, and a powerful voice in the Ministry. Ginny was a Quidditch player, (even if it was her last year,) a public figure whose word carried weight, even without her connection to Harry. Of course, her husband being who he was only increased the power of her opinion. Together, their words and thoughts guided the direction of Wizarding Britain, and even the larger world beyond.

That guidance, made in the spirit of love that they shared, would be threatened by the loss of their outlet. Their still plain sex life with each other, (which was surprising after all these years,) would be once more in danger by the fear of harming each other.

And Harry knew it.

They could always get another slave. Daphne figured that it would be their next stop after freeing her. And being the prominent family they were, they would definitely have the priority for attaining one of the dwindling supply of sentenced slaves.

But the truth was, she had grown to appreciate the role she played, wielding as she did an influence towards the bettering of hundreds of wizards. It was, in its own way, power. Power most Slytherins of her generation struggled for and still never achieved.

"No," she said.

"What?" asked Harry, anger in his voice at being contradicted by his slave.

The door opened and Ginny, still in her practice robes and covered in dirt and grime, came into the house, immediately taking stock of the situation.

"I don't want to be released," explained Daphne.

She sat there, waiting for the decision that would either free her, or allow her to retain her power and influence. For Harry could make his last act as her Master an order to sign for her freedom – she couldn't stop him if he did. And she had no doubts that her freedom would come with a cost. There was nothing left for her out there.

Two sets of eyes studied her, startling green and piercing brown.

After nearly a minute of staring, Ginny nodded and grabbed a sheet of parchment from the entry table by the door – a location from which she still had not moved. Prominently displayed on the parchment were two seals: one for the Wizengamot and one for the Ministry of Magic. Below the seals was large, calligraphic scrawl that read "Sentence: Slavery". The rest of the page was filled with a list of rules and a series of signatures.

Ginny approached her husband and their slave.

"We cannot destroy this," she said. "The Ministry can destroy it only when you sign it, under the proper spell, ending the sentence. We are bound by this contract and are required to bring you to the Ministry within five days of the final date – today."

"Only one other person is capable of destroying this parchment," said Harry. "And if that happens, the spells binding you cannot be broken."

Daphne was aware of this. She was given the opportunity to understand the law, its history, and its modern application as a part of the Choice a decade ago.

Holding out the parchment, Ginny warned, "Last chance. We can go to the Ministry. You can be free."

Power and influence were hers; it was what every pureblood Slytherin was raised to covet. She reverently took the parchment and, with nary a second thought (how the years had changed her,) tore the contract, releasing a flash of magic.

They now owned her until her death. There were no binding rules. They could damage her permanently, break her mentally, destroy her in every conceivable way if they so chose. And that was the price of her power. Whatever darkness resided in them was hers to absorb the backlash of. And for that price, she controlled the safety and stability of every witch and wizard in the country.

Her owners looked at her, smiling the reverently loving smiles they had only ever shared with each other.

"Thank you," said Harry, his voice breaking gruffly.

Ginny stepped forward, leaned down and _hugged_ her. "Thank you," she echoed her mate.

When she let Daphne go, she turned to Harry and said, "I'm filthy. I'm going to take a bath. Join me when you're done."

Once Ginny was gone from the room, Daphne turned back to her Master, who was glaring at her.

With a flick of his wand, her clothes were removed forcefully. She grunted out in pain as they were ripped from her body, shredded, as if someone grabbed the material all at once and pulled. She now sat naked, her skin reddening, as her Master pulled out his prodigious cock...


End file.
